


Pearls

by dragonspell



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Jewelry, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 23:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10477422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: Leonard looks down at the strand of pearls still wrapped around his wrist.  It slides down over the fabric of his sweater, dripping towards the floor in small, interconnected arcs.  Curious, Leonard tugs the sweater to his elbow, watching how the creamy white of the pearls contrasts with his skin tone as they slip over his forearm.  The strand is probably would a couple thousand dollars and here he is just holding it in his hand like a bit costume jewelry, letting it slap against a cheap sweater stolen from the clearance rack of a rundown Kmart.  Between the pearls and the rings and the bracelets, Leonard could have more money than he’s ever dreamed possible dangling on one arm.  The sparkle clashes with the plain thread of his clothes. A thought flutters through Leonard’s mind and his fingers move to the strand of pearls still hanging from his neck, sliding over the smooth white before stopping on the roughness of his sweater.  It’s ridiculous.  Absurd. Leonard’s going to do it anyway.(Or, Len and Mick break into a house to stay for a few days and clean the place out.  Len decides to try on a little jewelry.  And nothing else.  Plot?  What plot?)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Entropyrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/gifts).



> This fic is the result of a plot bunny and a challenge by Entropyrose. Loosely based on her fanart found [here](https://entropy-fan-art.tumblr.com/post/158648564432/len-in-jewels-a-gift-for-the-talented-and-amazing) (NSFW). Contains a NSFW image at the end.

The house is an impressive thing, possessing an understated grandeur and little of the pretentious trendiness that plagues its closest neighbors. Leonard likes it immediately.

It’s set a quarter mile from the main road, behind a stone fence with a wrought iron gate and a veritable forest of trees that protects its privacy. The graceful arches and sweeping verandas are nestled in among birches and oaks and a few pines, announced by the curve of the winding driveway as it bends briefly towards the house before arcing away to complete the circle that encloses a small, flowing fountain. The siding panels are a smooth, regular wood that break for large, majestic windows that oversee the drive and adjacent forest, and the peaks of the roof seem as if they are merely a continuation of the branches that surround them.

Growing up, Leonard had dreamed about living in a house like this, waking up one day to find that it had all just been a horrible mistake and that he and Lisa were destined for something more than a deadbeat father and his broken promises and unpayable debts. That was before Leonard had learned that dreams were nothing but wasted time and that whatever he wanted, it was up to him to take because, besides Lisa and Mick who were just as broken as him, there was no one in the world that wanted to give him anything. And take Leonard certainly has. At age 24, he’s already starting to rack up a pretty impressive list of jobs, whether people know it or not. Leonard prefers the ‘not’ side; it makes his life easier. 

For the bounty that he is about to receive, Leonard thanks Senator Roy Hutchins and his wife Mary Brandenburg-Hutchins. Senator Roy Hutchins likes to make a great many speeches about family values and improving the economy for all, but his pretty words are as empty as his moral center. Like many politicians, the truth is in his actions, not his words, and his voting record—a love letter to 1%—spoke for itself. His rich and powerful wife, a successful CEO of her own cosmetic line and a hotel chain heiress, hardly cares about what her bought Senator of a trophy husband gets up to as long as he keeps it out of the public eye and makes it to Congress for all votes that would affect her business interests. That would be why the good Senator is a dedicated customer of Hush Hush, one of Central City’s more discrete escort services. According to the bank statement on their shared account, Mr. Hutchins and one other had flown to Aspen this morning. Leonard knew that the other wasn’t Mrs. Hutchins, because her flight to Italy had departed an hour before her husband’s. There was also the $1000 charge to Rose Services, LLC that certainly wasn’t for any gardener.

At any rate, the various affairs of Mr. and Mrs. Hutchins have left their mansion free for a few weeks and Leonard and Mick intend to make good use of it.

A house like this, it seems like a shame to damage it. When the lock of the front door refuses to give despite all of the alarms being disabled, Leonard focuses a bit more, patiently working the tumblers until he finally hears the click. He grins as the door swings open, baring the whole of the inside, and Mick clasps his shoulder before striding past, heavy boots thumping over the deck and onto the hardwood floor. Leonard joins him and together, they stop and stare for a moment at the front foyer.

In the years that he has been walking on the path that fate and his father put him on, Leonard has seen many of the forms that wealth can take, from the ostentatious gold gilt of Central’s palatial Wittenburg Hotel to the casual frivolity of the Waterfall Bath House and to the caged splendor of the Central City Museum, but Leonard thinks that he likes this the best. He broken into a few mansions, all of which might as well have been built out of sheer gold for the amount of money that they embodied and he knows that it’s a rare quality that this particular house contains—it speaks of a _home_. It’s expensive, to be sure, everything from the curtains to the hand soap sure to be worth more than the monthly rent of many of the places Leonard grew up in, but there’s a lived-in feel to it, at least on the surface. The pictures that climb the wall by the staircase speak of a pretend happy family and each room, from the kitchen to the left, the living room to the right, and the hallway and brief second-story balcony dead center are painted with calm, soothing colors that whisper of welcome.

“Fancy,” Mick grunts and heads to the left, hand briefly fumbling along the wall until the lights flicker on. Leonard hears the sound of a refrigerator door opening and knows that Mick, as usual, has found the food. It seems to be his go-to move whenever they find their next temporary living space. The rattling and rustling of packages is accompanied by an occasional hum of approval or snort of derision as Mick decides what is edible and what is not. With Mick occupied, Leonard heads in the opposite direction.

Even the door jambs have an elegance to them. Leonard traces the intricate swirls carved into the light-colored wood, studying the pattern, before raising his eyes to survey the room at large. A small sitting area is tucked into the corner, but it’s the piano that dominates the room. It’s sleek and black, filling the arch created by a curving bank of windows. Leonard lets his hand hover over the slick lines, watching the reflection of his fingers in the smooth surface. He reaches the creamy ivory of the keys and briefly twitches his fingers in the familiar rhythm of a song taught to him long ago by a woman he barely remembers. The song has stuck with him long after she and her piano have disappeared from his life, the muscle memory of Leonard’s fingers the only indication that either existed at all.

An emotion tries to bubble to the surface, propelled by memory, and Leonard turns his back to the piano, sealing himself away. The painting on the far wall is a soft, impressionistic interpretation of water lilies, all swirling blues and greens with wisps of purple and yellow. It’s a nice work, complementing the room, but difficult to move and unlikely to be worth the trouble. Leonard diverts his attention to the sideboard underneath it and pockets a small, decorative silver rose before picking up a picture frame. An attractive Marine smiles back at him, crisp, clean uniform properly starched as he wraps his arms around the shoulders of an elderly couple—no doubt a picture of the Senator’s military-minded younger brother and well-to-do parents. Leonard’s eyes trace the easy, carefree lines of the man’s face, Lisa’s voice inside his head. “I wouldn’t mind stealing him,” she’d purr if she were here. Leonard sets the frame back down, adjusting it a quarter turn to put it back at its precise angle, and heads out of the room.

Mick is still raiding the fridge when Leonard enters the foyer again, opening what sounds to be a bag of chips. Leonard glances down the hallway towards what seems to be a sprawling sunroom, then heads up the stairs, following them as they curve into a balcony that overlooks the main room. Hallways fan out to either side of the second floor and Leonard decides to go left for the simple fact that it’s closest.

The first door is a closet, stuffed full of soft linens and heavy quilts, and Leonard closes it back up and tries the next. A guest room—boring, bland, and seemingly geared at a child—greets him. He frowns and heads for door number three.

He smiles. Jackpot.

The bedroom, much larger than the child’s guest room, sweeps outward toward a large bank of windows and what looks to be another balcony, this one overlooking the side yard. A king-sized bed dominates the north wall, flanked by matching nightstands. Leonard riffles through the drawers, pocketing a handful of bills and a gold pocket watch. The cash alone is worth the price of admission and he has no doubts that he can get a good price for the watch. 

Leonard trails his fingers over the soft sheets of the bed and onto the white imitation fur of the blanket folded at the end. It’s not his style, but from what he knows about Mary Brandenburg-Hutchins, it’s definitely hers. The fashion sense of Cruella De Ville but more environmentally conscious.

The free-standing wardrobe is a treasure trove of synthetic fur, all varying lengths and colors and Leonard grins as he brushes his hand over them. Modern technology boiled down to a fashion statement. He reaches through and behind them, searching the back wall for any hidden drawers. When he comes up empty-handed, he moves on.

The water lilies downstairs must have been Mrs. Hutchins’s choice because the paintings decorating the room follow the same theme—soft impressions of nature and muted colors. Leonard considers a forest floor vista for awhile, noting the artist’s name in the corner—local talent that Leonard recognizes from a few museum and art show announcements—before doing a quick sweep of the room and realizing that all of the paintings seem to have come from the same hand. “Well,” Leonard says to himself, wondering if Mrs. Hutchins supports the arts in quite the same way that her husband does. More than a few aspiring actresses have found their way into Roy Hutchins’s bed.

Leonard presses his finger along the side of the frame and smiles when he feels the slight gap. The painting swings outward, revealing a small safe with a combination lock, and Leonard gets back to work, fingers carefully turning the knob as he waits for the tumblers to click into place. Each click feels like a heartbeat, a steady rhythm that will happily share its secrets to anyone who will listen.

Four. Twenty-seven. Sixteen. The lock gives a final click and the door swings up when Leonard pulls the latch. “Beautiful,” he says to the organized collection of jewelry. He pulls out a string of pearls, thumb sliding over the slick, creamy beads before he drapes it over his head and lets it hang. He follows it with silver-set diamonds and a handful of sparkling bracelets—rubies, emeralds, sapphires.

“You should try this,” Mick shouts from downstairs, his gruff voice threaded with the simple pleasure of good food.

“You should try this,” Leonard says to himself, winding another set of pearls around his hand.

“What?”

Leonard rolls his eyes and looks at the doorway. It’s the fact that he and Mick are planning on staying in the Hutchins’s mansion for at least a couple of days that has Mick starting with the kitchen rather than the valuables, but Leonard still feels a bit annoyed that Mick is stuffing his face rather than helping Leonard map out the things worth stealing. Mick’s a bit of a savant at finding hidden safes and false panels, sniffing them out like a bloodhound. There will be time to eat _after_. Mick has always had different priorities, though. 

_Whatever_ , Leonard thinks. Mick will be upstairs soon enough. He slips off his jacket and tosses it onto a dresser before reaching back into the safe. Dragging out the rest of the jewelry and another stack of cash along with a few envelopes of paper, Leonard takes the haul over to the bed and starts sorting. He inspects rings and bracelets, quick counts the cash, and flips through the envelopes of bonds and contracts. Mary Brandenburg-Hutchins had certainly put a lot of trust in the relative isolation of her house and the dubious protections of a middle-of-the-road safe. Leonard bets that she won’t make that mistake again.

Downstairs, Mick has apparently discovered the liquor cabinet. “Now we’re talking!” he says. “Damn that’s good.” Trust Mick to be Mick. Smiling despite himself, Leonard looks down at the strand of pearls still wrapped around his wrist. It slides down over the fabric of his sweater, dripping towards the floor in small, interconnected arcs. Curious, Leonard tugs the sweater to his elbow, watching how the creamy white of the pearls contrasts with his skin tone as they slip over his forearm. The strand is probably would a couple thousand dollars and here he is just holding it in his hand like a bit costume jewelry, letting it slap against a cheap sweater stolen from the clearance rack of a rundown Kmart. 

Between the pearls and the rings and the bracelets, Leonard could have more money than he’s ever dreamed possible dangling on one arm. He reaches down and selects a few rings, sliding them on. One, a piece of titanium studded with diamonds slips over his index finger while most only fit his pinky. The bracelets follow, stacked one after the other on top of the ones that Leonard is already wearing. Some cling to his wrist while others drape, jingling as they slide together. Their sparkle clashes with the plain thread of his clothes.

A thought flutters through Leonard’s mind and his fingers move to the strand of pearls still hanging from his neck, sliding over the smooth white before stopping on the roughness of his sweater. 

It’s ridiculous. Absurd.

Leonard’s going to do it anyway.

Leonard carefully tugs his sweater over the pearls and other assorted bits of jewelry, pulling it off one sleeve at a time before yanking it over his head and tossing it toward his jacket. The pearls cascade down onto the blackness of his undershirt, followed by glittering silver and the heavy thud of set diamonds. His breathing turning quick and shallow, Leonard drags the black tank up and discards it too. The pearls graze his bare skin, a light tease before they’re followed by the heavier chains, weighted down with jewels. He shivers at their cool touch, solid and heavy against him. Reaching upward, he flattens his palms against them, forcing them into his skin like he might somehow absorb them into his core. A dangling sapphire brushes against the soft bud of his nipple and he gasps, his body jerking upright. Licking his lips, he makes the jewel repeat the motion and his eyes flutter closed. His hands tangle around the mass of chains and pearls, feeling the wealth against his palms as his fingers reach between and tease, sending a shiver racing up his spine. 

Mick’s heavy boots start to thud up the stairs, reminding Leonard that he isn’t alone, and instinctive panic floods through Leonard’s veins, dropping his hands and spinning him around towards the door. He freezes in place and blinks as his rational mind catches up with his hindbrain’s fight or flight and helpfully reminds it that it’s just Mick. Just Mick, who doesn’t give a damn what you’re into as long as you don’t judge him in return.

Fuck, Mick. Leonard wants.

He wants to.

If Mick wants it too. 

Leonard’s heart thumps in his chest as anticipation mixes with the waning fear, prickling along his gut. Slowly, he works at his belt, pulling it free. Mick’s a strange kind of guy. He’s different than anyone that Leonard’s ever known. In juvie, Leonard could always tell what the other boys wanted from him, whether it was to kick his ass or have it, but Mick had been a tough read. He hadn’t seemed to want anything, not bothering to talk beyond a few gruff words and a grunt or two after he’d saved Leonard’s life. He’d walked away after smashing the last guy’s head against a wall, heading towards the other end of the hall and hadn’t seemed to give a flying fuck if Leonard followed him or not. Leonard had been fascinated—and a life debt was a life debt. Someone had told him that once. So, he’d hung around even as he waited for the catch, to find out why Mick had really saved him. He’d looked at Mick, at the start of broad shoulders and burgeoning biceps and thought that, yeah, he’d be okay with it.

After a few years, Leonard had finally realized that it was never coming. Mick had saved him because Mick was Mick. Maybe Mick had felt like kicking some ass or perhaps he’d felt sorry for Leonard. His story changed every time Leonard asked, the details switching up based on how and why Leonard was doing the asking. Of course, Leonard had nearly gone crazy trying to solve the puzzle before he realized that there was no puzzle at all. Mick was happy with a beer and a burger and if he liked you, you were in, simple as that and don’t go overthinking it.

Leonard has always been prone to overthinking. Nature of the job.

The first time Leonard had kissed Mick, they’d both been just barely in their twenties, squatting in some condemned dump of a house, waiting for one of the local bosses to call them up for another run. The first time that they’d been together in three months thanks to Leonard’s asshole of a father and Leonard had been caught up in the excitement of being free. A half hour and two beers later, he’d finally worked up the courage to turn on the couch and press his lips to Mick’s. It had been nothing like he’d ever experienced before, nothing like the moments that he’d shared throughout the years with the various people whose names he’d forgotten as soon as they’d said them. His heart had given a painful little jump like he was about to have a heart attack, and his stomach had flipped upside down. 

It had been the first time that Leonard had ever felt scared of a kiss. 

Mick, though, had only blinked at him for a moment, his brow furling in confusion as he grunted a “huh” and then he’d turned his attention back to the TV, fingers still clasped around his beer. Leonard had spent a full ten minutes blushing, wondering what he’d done wrong and if it was something he should be offended about. Eventually, he’d chalked it up to Mick being Mick and settled in to watch the end of American Gladiator.

They hadn’t said anything about it, didn’t talk about it at all. That didn’t stop Leonard from thinking about it.

Mick, Leonard noticed, didn’t take girls home. Leonard didn’t either, so that wasn’t anything—who wants people knowing where you sleep?—but Mick also didn’t take girls to anonymous hotels like Leonard sometimes did. He didn’t even take them to the back alley like some of the other guys did. He didn’t take them anywhere. He smiled at them and called them by whatever nickname he’d given them, let them drape themselves all over him, but that was it. He left them in whatever bar or strip club he found them in and went on with his life.

Mick didn’t take boys home, either.

And it wasn’t that Mick wasn’t interested, Leonard knew that at least. He could see how Mick watched him sometimes, knew that Mick was aware that Leonard was watching back, but it never seemed to mean anything. Leonard slept with people; Mick slept with none; and Mick formed quasi-friendships with the half of Central City’s underside while Leonard kept everyone an arms’ length away. Leonard had figured that that was just how they worked.

It had taken him over a year to work up the courage again, once more sitting on a couch side-by-side, though this time they’d been living in each other’s back pockets for months and Mick’s arm had been stretched out over Leonard’s shoulders. Leonard had cut straight to the chase this time by offering a blowjob.

Mick hadn’t said no. He’d stuttered out a mangled question and then something to the affirmative and dropped his hands to fumble at his jeans before Leonard went to his knees and did it for him. Mick’s big hands had cradled Leonard’s head, rubbing and stroking over Leonard’s face and ears and neck, as he’d brokenly whispered about how he’d never and how he wanted with Leonard and “Fuck, Len, but you mean something, you know? You’re, you’re, you’re…” He’d huffed and groaned and had come apart in Leonard’s mouth.

Then he’d returned the favor, enthusiasm substituting for experience. “Special,” Mick had said, looking up at him. It was the first time that Leonard, for all his experience between the sheets, over and under them, had felt anything like the strange, heart-squeezing sensation called love.

Mick’s a strange guy, but Leonard is too. It’s probably why they work so well.

Leonard slides out of his jeans and, after a moment, his underwear too. Mick chose to go right and is exploring the other wing of the house, buying Leonard a little time if that’s what he wants. Naked, Leonard crawls onto the soft sheets of the bed, left knee resting on the fake fur draped over the end. He grabs up more handfuls of jewelry—bracelets and rings and necklaces—and puts them on, coating himself in literal millions. They’re his armor. Mick rarely turns him down when he asks, but Leonard’s still afraid that he might—and this isn’t their normal thing. “Mick!” he calls, jumping off his metaphorical fence before self-doubt gets the better of him.

Mick’s answering “Yeah?” echoes down the hallway.

“Last door on the left,” Leonard tells him and listens as Mick’s boots stop their exploring and stomp towards him. He steadies himself with a deep breath and waits.

“Jesus, Len,” Mick whispers. Leonard turns his head, watching over his shoulder as Mick carefully sets his stolen bottle of whiskey down beside his already discarded sandwich and straightens again. Mick stares at him for a moment, each second drawing out like an eternity, and then approaches like Leonard might be a wary cat, liable to scurry away at any wrong move. As comparisons go, it’s probably not too far off. Leonard thinks he might be about to be sick. He feels more than just naked. He feels _exposed_. The only thing that keeps him in place is how Mick’s eyes slide up and down Leonard’s body as if wants to look everywhere at once. “Yeah?” Mick rasps, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Emboldened, Leonard turns around fully, palming his hardening cock, and Mick’s eyes immediately drop to it. “Yeah,” Leonard breathes. “C’mere.”

“Thought you said we should clear this place out first,” Mick says as he scoots closer, his mouth making small talk even as his body’s already said yes.

Leonard shrugs. “We’ve got time.”

Mick’s hands hover over the rich strands of silver and gold that Leonard’s strung around himself, fingers gingerly traveling over the metal and onto Leonard’s skin like he’s afraid that either might break under his touch. Leonard smiles as his heart gives another painful thump in his chest. Mick’s the only person that makes him feel like this—lost and scared even as excitement tingles along his nerves. He holds his hands out and tilts his head in a subtle invitation that Mick readily accepts, bending his head to nose underneath Leonard’s jaw. Mick’s wet lips slide along Leonard’s neck, followed by the rasp of his stubble, riding along the top edge of the pearls and Leonard shivers, his hands grabbing onto Mick’s shoulders to steady himself. Hot puffs of air break over Leonard’s skin as Mick pants against him. “Fuck, Len,” Mick hisses, his shoulders starting to tremble as he tries to keep himself contained. “How do you do this to me?” He rubs his face alongside Leonard’s, rough stubble scraping over Leonard’s check. “I never felt like this before you.”

Leonard fists his hands in Mick’s shirt. “Me either,” he admits. Before Mick, Leonard doesn’t think that he ever would have dared to have done something like this. With Mick, though, it’s easy.

Mick’s big hands slide to Leonard’s back, trace the lines down to his ass, and squeeze, pulling Leonard forward. Leonard bites along Mick’s jaw, moving to his ear and sucking it between his lips. “You should take your clothes off, Mick,” Leonard suggests. His hips rock forward, nudging his hard cock against Mick’s denim-covered thigh.

Mick groans, running his mouth back over Leonard’s neck and shoulder, tongue slipping along the chains, before he finally breaks away long enough to pull off his shirt. Leonard grips Mick’s jeans, undoing the snap and pushing down the zipper to slide his hand into them, ringed fingers bumping against the base of Mick’s cock. The golden bracelets on his wrists jingle. Mick grabs up Leonard’s other hand, moving his lips over the pearls and licking at the skin underneath. He bites at a bare stretch of Leonard’s wrist and Leonard moans as he slips deeper into Mick’s jeans, rubbing his palm over the growing bulge of Mick’s cock.

With a growl, Mick yanks Leonard’s hand out of his pants and pushes him backward onto the bed. Mick’s jeans slither down his hips and he crawls naked overtop of Leonard’s prone form. Leonard gasps when Mick’s teeth sink into his shoulder and Mick licks an apology before he makes his way over the pearls and diamonds and follows them down Leonard’s chest, lips and tongue moving around them and under them. He laves Leonard’s skin, leaving a wet trail that circles around Leonard’s nipple. Leonard swears softly, his hands stroking over Mick’s head as his back arches. Mick knows what he wants; it’s not difficult to figure out.

Leonard groans as Mick starts to suck, lips sealing around a nipple. His feet churn on the bed, looking for purchase on the slick sheets as he rocks his hips upward. Rounded slickness grazes over his other nipple and Leonard glances down to see Mick’s fingers wrapped in the strand of pearls, dragging them up and down over Leonard’s chest to tease him. The creamy beads drag over the nub one by one before Mick pulls them back and repeats, twining them in a small circle. A whimper escapes Leonard’s throat as he clenches his knees against Mick’s sides, more to keep himself in place than Mick. Mick hums and adds the rough pad of his thumb to his teasing worship, flicking it over Leonard’s nipple in between the pearls. On the other side, his tongue licks gently at the hardened nub inside his mouth. Leonard squeezes his eyes shut, body tensing as he feels an urge to come building inside of himself. 

Between his legs, Mick drops his hips and starts to thrust, slow and steady, rubbing their cocks together in a soft, silken slide. Gasping, Leonard forces a hand between Mick’s chest and his and wraps it around the both of them, his vision whiting out at the tightness of his grip and the feeling of Mick still moving against him. Mick sucks harder, his fingers giving up teasing, moving on to a steady pinch, pull, and release that makes Leonard shudder. Leonard catches his lower lip between his teeth, biting down, and gives their joined cocks one hard pump, two, and comes.

Leonard bucks upward, hips instinctively moving as he rides out the high of orgasm. His thighs tremble with the strain. Mick gives him one last suck and then collapses on top of him, arms wrapping around him, digging under him, gathering him up, as Mick’s own hips thrust against Leonard. Air rushes out of Leonard’s lungs, crushed beneath Mick’s weight, and he shifts, giving himself enough space to breath as the world slowly pieces itself back together. Mick pants on top of him, strong arms holding him tight as Mick rubs his cock in the join of Leonard’s thigh and hip. With Mick’s big, hard body keeping him pinned, Leonard thinks it might be the hottest thing he’s ever been a part of. He breathes deep, a little moan voicing his contentment, then tips his head to bite at Mick’s ear. He inches his hand to the right, fingers regaining their grip on Mick’s cock and Mick’s pants take on a harsh edge.

Mick shudders as he comes, his arms tightening around Leonard as pulses of hot slick coats Leonard’s stomach. He briefly lifts himself up and then crashes back down, flattening Leonard against the bed. They lie there boneless for awhile until their chests are no longer heaving with desperate gulps of air, settling back into a slower rhythm, steady and matched.

Leonard nudges Mick with his knee and draws in a deep breath as Mick rolls to the side. He smiles and lets his limbs sprawl careless across the bed. One hand lands above Mick’s head and he idly starts to pet, fingers moving over the scruff of Mick’s shaved hair as his eyes close. He’s sweaty, with come drying on his stomach from both himself and Mick and in another time, another place, he’d be horrified at himself. Right now, he’s too content to move.

This is something else that has only happened with Mick, this lackadaisical wallowing in the afterglow. Leonard assumes it has something to do with trust, but he doesn’t think too hard on it.

“Million dollar fuck,” Mick mutters. Leonard’s grin widens.

“ _Multi-_ million dollar fuck,” he corrects. “There’s at least a million on my hand alone.” He twirls the hand in question, feeling each of the rings and the shifting of the pearls before dropping it back to Mick’s head.

Mick grunts, not really caring about the technicality, and sits up. His eyes travel over Leonard’s body, over his marked-up chest to the come pooling in the lines of Leonard’s stomach and down further to casual bend of his legs. “Bet the shower’s worth a few million, too,” he says.

“Oh?” Leonard wouldn’t doubt it. He hasn’t found the master bath yet but he’s willing to bet good money that it’s a custom-job with a shower big enough to fit a couple and ten of their closest friends.

“Yeah.” Mick rolls himself to his feet. “Cripes, is that fur?”

Leonard drags his feet over the soft accent blanket. “Fake, I think,” he says. They’ll probably take it anyway, just to be sure.

“Huh.” Leonard hears Mick walk around the bed and pause. He opens one eye.

“What?”

“Up,” Mick says.

Now that seems like a silly idea. The bed is soft and Leonard is comfortable. Why would he want to get up? Mick bends and the bed dips beneath Leonard, a sure sign of impending removal. Leonard braces a hand against Mick’s shoulder. “Don’t pick me up,” he warns, both of his eyes snapping open. 

“Then get up,” Mick tells him, straightening. “I’m not listening to you bitch.”

“Fine, fine,” Leonard mutters and pushes himself upward. “Happy?”

Mick grabs him and pulls him to his feet. With gravity now on its side, their combined spunk starts to drip down Leonard’s stomach, sliding between his thighs. Leonard’s upper lip curls in disgust. “Fantastic.”

“Told you,” Mick says.

“Yes, fine. Do you happen to know where the shower is or were you hoping that would stumble across it while we wander naked?”

Mick grins, his eyes dragging back down Leonard’s body and back up. “It’s on the left,” he says but catches Leonard in mid-turn. Leonard arches an eyebrow that immediately drops back down when Mick slides his grip to Leonard’s wrist and starts removing the jewelry one ring at a time. Each one that Mick peels off, he tosses back onto the bed and by the time he gets to the pearls, Leonard’s feeling even more naked than he already is. He’s back to feeling exposed. Vulnerable. He ducks his head when Mick pulls of the strings of necklaces. Stripped of all of his purloined finery, Leonard stands stock still for a moment, wondering what he should do. He lifts his gaze and catches himself on Mick’s eyes. They regard each other for a solemn moment before Mick leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against Leonard’s lips.

“You’re beautiful, Lenny,” he mutters and Leonard feels that familiar ball of warmth that only Mick can create growing in his chest. He thinks about saying something back, his voice sticking in his throat, but before he can, Mick spins him around and slaps him on the ass, evidently deciding that the moment had been getting too sappy to handle. “Now how about you march?”

Leonard gives him a one fingered salute and a grin before doing just that. Mick follows close on his heels, hands reaching out to touch every now and then, a habit that Mick’s picked up in the past year or so. Leonard’s found that he doesn’t mind it at all.

The bathroom turns out to be as expensive as they thought, with a sprawling tub that takes up an entire corner. Mick drags Leonard into it and Leonard kicks on the jets and they stay until the water in the tub cools.

They’ve got maybe a week to clean this place out and Leonard thinks that he’s going to enjoy the hell out of it.

**NSFW Image displayed below.**

[](https://entropy-fan-art.tumblr.com/post/158648564432/len-in-jewels-a-gift-for-the-talented-and-amazing)


End file.
